Lost In This Place: The Sad Start
by wemakeourownmountains
Summary: The four Oaken siblings have lived with their grandparents since they were very young. One day the children receive horrible news; their grandparents have been killed in a terrible fire. Alice, Rupert, Matilda, and Gregor are placed with their nearest relative - Count Olaf. Soon they meet the Baudelaire children, and their own series of unfortunate events begins.


**Chapter One**

_Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them._

If you are interested in happy ending, you would be better off reading another fanfiction – if a happy one exists in this community. In this story, there are a few more happy parts than in the original – merely because there is comfort in numbers – but there is still no happy beginning or end, and it's rather likely there won't ever be. This is because, after the deaths of their parental figures, not many good things happened in the lives of the Baudelaires and the Oakens. Now, you know all about the Baudelaire children, but to my knowledge you have not heard anything of the Oakens. Of course, that is what I am here for.

The Oakens' misfortune began one day at the playground on Ventral street. The four Oaken siblings lived with their grandparents, as they had since Alice was four and Rupert was a baby. The children had only seen their parents once since that time – about five months before our story starts, when they showed up on the doorstep one night with two newborn babies, whom they handed to Grandmother, before leaving without a word. The Oaken siblings had been raised by their grandparents ever since.

Alice, the eldest, loved nature. Endlessly she learned about plants – natural remedies, origins, myths, legends, and facts. She wasn't like most fifteen-year-old-girls; she didn't care to jabber about boys and clothes. No, she much preferred being with her siblings or her grandparents, exploring and learning about animals and plants, or just reading together – the entire Oaken family loved books. Alice hated the word 'proper'; it seemed like she was endlessly hearing it from her aunts, uncles, cousins, and neighbors – this dress wasn't _proper_, her hair wasn't _proper_, it wasn't _proper_ for her to climb trees – she **hated** it. Luckily, their grandparents didn't think like that.

At the moment our story starts, Alice was examining the moss around the edge of the playground. It was Atrichum Angustatum, common name Star Moss. Usually medium green in hue, with colorful sporophytes and male cups,the sporophytes in maroon, while the cups were bright orange. The Star Moss was a pioneer of disturbed soils, which explained its presence at the popular playground. Alice was considering at that moment what Star Moss could be used for; was it edible? She couldn't remember...

Rupert, aged eleven, almost twelve, loved to draw. He could draw anything; he and Alice were currently writing a book about plants, with Rupert drawing them and Alice writing blurbs about them. With a thin piece of chalk in hand, Rupert drew a large, detailed face on the sidewalk. It was a picture of their grandfather, as I have personally seen, and extremely well drawn. Rupert was quiet until he got to know people, but thereafter one could hardly shut him up.

Lastly, there were the almost-four-month-old twins, Matilda and Gregor. Matilda was a spy in training; she could hide anywhere and was a fantastic eavesdropper. Their grandmother said that she could hide in the arctic wearing a red coat. Her skills were observing, hiding, and eavesdropping. Though she was young, and she and Gregor spoke in strange words that only their siblings and grandparents could understand, she was very sarcastic and witty, though Matilda had the best 'puppy-face'. At this moment, Matilda was curled up in a bush, her large green dress camouflaging her well, observing a rather large man in a suit and top hat who was scanning the playground, a worried expression on his face. She wondered what he was doing here – he looked very familiar...

Gregor was a budding theatre expert. He loved to read plays, and remembered every one he'd ever read, had read to him, or seen. He was normally quiet and had a high sense of right and wrong. At the moment he was acting out a part from _Phantom of the Opera_ on the see-saw.

The siblings didn't look much alike, though they did have the same oval faces, the same snow-white skin, the same tiny noses, and the same colour green eyes. Alice had long curly blond hair and Rupert had wavy orange hair. Matilda had _huge_ green eyes and wispy black hair over which she nearly always wore a headband. Gregor had tonnes of curly orange hair in Afro-esque style, and a chubbier face than his siblings.

Gregor wasn't like his twin sister in some respects; for instance, when he noticed the figure, he recognized him quickly and announced it.

"Genzy!" Gregor said, pointing from his place on the seesaw. Rupert had just finished putting the finishing touches on Grandfather's mustache, Alice looked up from her moss, and Matilda crawled out of the bush. When Gregor said something, since it was so rare, everyone took note. What he meant was something like, "Look over there!"

"Oh!" Alice said, standing and picking up the twins, while she beckoned to Rupert. "Isn't that Mr. Poe?"

Mr. Poe was the banker in charge of their grandparent's fortune, which lay in the Oaken Opals. They had seen him on occasion; when their grandfather took them to the bank with him and such.

"I think it is," agreed Rupert, squinting at the man in the distance. He seemed to be calling someone, but the children couldn't quite hear him.

"Hello Mr. Poe!" Alice called, never one to be shy. "Are you looking for someone? I think we're the only ones here right now."

As the banker's eyes found the children, he hurried over to them, though Alice was surprised that he could hear her at all from that distance.

"Ah, yes, just who I was looking for," Mr. Poe said. The children were about to say hello, and then ask why he was looking for _them, _whenthe man began coughing roughly into a handkerchief. Now the Oakens remembered why they recalled Mr. Poe so easily – he _always_ had a cough.

After a few moments, when Mr. Poe's coughing had settled once more, the children moved forward to greet the man.

"How do you do?" said Alice.

"How do you do?" said Rupert.

"Ona pika!" said the twins.

"Fine, thank you children." Mr. Poe said, but he actually looked quiet sad and anxious. The Oakens wondered why the man was at this tiny, unpopular park when he should be at the bank in the city where he worked.

"It's a nice day," Alice said conversationally. "Except for that cloud over there, I suppose." There was a large black cloud hovering several streets over, which the children had paid no mind to until now.

Mr. Poe followed her gaze, and his face twisted slightly.

"I'm...afraid I have some very bad news for you, children." Mr. Poe said slowly.

The four Oakens stared up at him.

"Your grandparents," Poe said. "have perished in a terrible fire."

The siblings said nothing.

"They perished," he continued, "In a large fire that destroyed the entire home. I'm very, very sorry to tell you this, my dear children."

Alice looked away from Mr. Poe, back at the stretch of Star Moss. Mr. Poe had never called them '_my dear children_' before. Rupert looked at the drawing of his grandfather on the pavement and wondered if that was the last image he would see of the man.

"Perished means 'killed'." Mr. Poe added.

"Lunx," Matilda said crossly. She meant something like, "Of _course _we know what _perished_ means – we're not stupid!"

Gregor said nothing. He could only stare at Mr. Poe, resting his head on his older sister's shoulder, and thinking that he must have simply misunderstood the banker's words. His language skills weren't complete, after all...

"The fire department arrived too late." Poe said. "The mansion was engulfed in flames, and burned to the ground."

Alice picture her greenhouse, all the plants on fire and her microscope melting. Rupert though of his art supplies catching fire – all his pictures around the house crumbling up. Matilda thought of her binoculars and the special cup she used for door-listening. Gregor thought of all his plays and posters. Everything was gone – even, the children supposed, the library that the Oaken children and grandparents spent most of their time in.

Now Alice realised why Mr. Poe had looked so forlornly at the cloud in the distance; it wasn't a cloud at all, but smoke from their former home.

Mr. Poe cleared his throat.

"Since I am in charge of your grandparent's estate, the four of you will stay at my home until other arraignments are made. Come along, children."

Mr. Poe held out his hand, and Alice took it numbly. Rupert took hers, and in this way the Oaken children walked away from their old lives and into a new series of unfortunate events.


End file.
